She sits across from me. Her hair is black, curly, pulled back tight in a chignon. Her eyes are hazel. She looks distracted. She wears black leggings and brown boots, a black v-neck t-shirt and a light blue sweater, unbuttoned, a silk scarf around her neck. A tiny necklace with a copper serving spoon and a spatula dangling from it rests at the top of her v-neck, in her cleavage, which is minimal. She projects an almost asexual beauty.